THE GROCERY STORE – Where’s my check list? Butter, milk, coffee, beer, eggs, more beer. I shall keep the receipt because later I will have to exchange most of these items. Me: “Here’s the milk.” My wife: “This is 2 percent milk. I wanted 3 percent, besides it’s a pint and I needed a quart, non-organic. This is organic. And this isn’t….” Husbands know what I’m talking about. In any event, here I am at the check-out counter. “Paper or plastic?” the clerk asks. “Paper, please.” “Your ID?” the clerk says, while loading my groceries in a plastic bag. ID? To buy the beer, I guess, but I don’t look under 21, or under 71 for that matter. I inquire why I should have to show my ID.
“It’s a new order from the Trumpster himself,” the clerk says, stacking the eggs on the bottom of the bag and putting two six-packs on the top. “He says you gotta show your ID to buy groceries. It makes America great again.” I go home and am somewhat confused until I pick up the newspaper. “During a rally in Tampa, Fla., Trump justified his call for voter ID cards by saying they were already needed to buy food. ‘If you go out and you want to buy groceries, you need a picture on a card, you need ID. You go out, you want to buy anything, you need ID. You need your picture.’” As has been pointed out by those commie libs in the press, this quote shows that our beloved President Donald J. Trump thinks we have to present our ID when shopping for groceries or “anything.” More telling, this clueless quote shows he is totally out of touch with the American people, so how can he relate to our angst?
To be fair (hahaha), we must remember that this man of the people for years has ridden around in a chauffeur-driven car, flown in his own private airplane and lives in a three-story penthouse suite on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. This is not a knock. I’d live that way if I could, and so would you. And we wouldn’t know much about grocery shopping. But we might know that we don’t have to present an ID when buying Lay’s Perineum Potato Chips. These days, shoppers rarely need to show identification except to buy cigarettes, alcohol and some over-the-counter medications. Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the White House press secretary, said Trump was “not saying every time he went in; he said when you go to the grocery store.” Asked when Trump last shopped for groceries himself, Sanders said: “I’m not sure. I’m not sure why that matters, either. If you go to a grocery store and you buy beer and wine, certainly you’re going to have to show your ID.” She said he wasn’t talking about himself when he made the comment because Trump doesn’t drink alcohol.
On the other hand, Oscar Wilde wrote: “A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.” So I really don’t want President Trump, or any President, shopping at my local grocery store. Can you imagine poking among the pork bellies and in walks President Trump with his entourage of Secret Service, assorted hangers-on and the enemies of America: the press? What a circus.
This out-of-touch game has been played before. President George H. W. Bush, during a debate more than two decades ago, could not say how much a gallon of milk cost. When he was campaigning for re-election and paid a visit to the exhibition hall of the National Grocers Association convention, Bush lingered at the mock-up of a checkout lane. Then he grabbed a quart of milk, a light bulb and a bag of candy and ran them over an electronic scanner. A news story at the time read: “The look of wonder flickered across his face again as he saw the item and price registered on the cash register screen. ‘This is for checking out?’ Bush later exclaimed: ‘I just took a tour through the exhibits here. Amazed by some of the technology.’”
Ike Eisenhower, retiring to his farm at Gettysburg, noted he hadn’t opened a car door or dialed a phone in decades. Less Dems get too cocky, when Harry Truman left the White House as a former President heading towards the airport to take him to Missouri, he observed with some awe that his car had to stop at red lights. Then there was the time Jacqueline Kennedy, sprawled across her bed reading a magazine, told an aide, “You know, there are coupons that will give you a discount.” And lest we forget the observation by Hillary Clinton in 2014: “The last time I actually drove a car myself was 1996.” Chauffeured for 18 years and counting. I don’t know the price of a quart of milk because I haven’t drunk milk since 1900, but it is one of those gotcha questions reporters tend to ask politicians running for office, so perhaps they should bone up on such matters beforehand.
This whole ID thing is part of Trump’s constant claim that “three million illegal immigrants voted in the last (presidential) election.” Some conservative pundits put the number even higher. This may well be so, but other experts poo-poo this figure. The problem is, despite claims such as Gov. Greg Abbott’s warning of “rampant” voter fraud, there has not been one iota of proof. To paraphrase the line from “Jerry Maguire:” Show me the illegal voters! They can’t and, we must suspect, because there aren’t any. OK, there is one. Rosa Maria Ortega, 37, a permanent resident and a mother of four who lives outside Dallas, was sentenced to eight years in prison — and almost certainly deportation later — after she voted illegally in elections in 2012 and 2014.
“Butter, milk, coffee, beer, eggs, more beer. Your papers, please.” Or plastic.
Ashby frauds at firstname.lastname@example.org